


Including Andrea.

by AstroFighter



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: Eventual Romance, F/F, Fashion & Couture, Fluff and Smut, Romance, Runway Magazine, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:15:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24789088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AstroFighter/pseuds/AstroFighter
Summary: It hadn’t started that way. But that night. When my boyfriend had left the apartment. I was in the bathroom, crying. Miranda had chosen, to call then. Of all nights.“I need three Missoni handbags sent to office at….”I couldn’t stop the tears. Not even for Miranda. “It was already ordered, they’ll arrive tomorrow.”God, I sounded pathetic.“Well...good.” Miranda couldn’t have been more quiet.“Is there anything else you need?” The words tumbled forward, shaky but firm.“No. That is all.” Click.
Relationships: Miranda Priestly & Andrea Sachs, Miranda Priestly/Andrea Sachs
Comments: 60
Kudos: 226





	1. Chapter 1

**Including Andrea.**

**Chapter 1:**

Paris. I’d been with Runway for less than a year. And Miranda Priestly had taken me to Paris. Emily had been shocked, but she’d been hit by a car. Not by me, it was some cross-eyed Taxi driver. But she was supposed to be here. Sitting in this limousine, for the final hurrah.

My boyfriend had broken up with me. When he’d said I was in a relationship with my boss. I thought he was insane. Until he wasn’t. I brought over the Book, the Bible for the next magazine issue. For Miranda to scribble upon. Her opinion was final, and meant the world to everyone in fashion. Including myself.

It hadn’t started that way. But that night. When my boyfriend had left the apartment. I was in the bathroom, crying. Miranda had chosen, to call then. Of all nights.

“I need three Missoni handbags sent to office at….”

I couldn’t stop the tears. Not even for Miranda. “It was already ordered, they’ll arrive tomorrow.”

God, I sounded pathetic.

“Well...good.” Miranda couldn’t have been more quiet.

“Is there anything else you need?” The words tumbled forward, shaky but firm.

“No. That is all.” Click.

That phone call changed everything. No more late night calls. That was for sure. It was 10pm. I never got one after 9pm again. Thank whatever God you worship for that.

But, when I saw her the next day. It was business as usual, before she asked me. If I was ‘well’. I said yes. And that was the end of that.

And last night, she had been crying. “Another divorce”. Well, I didn’t know what to say. So we worked. Until 12am. I barely slept. Thank God for foundation.

Miranda looked gorgeous. I didn’t understand how. The Head Editor was dressed beautifully. Black dress. Fur coat. Both in her favourite brand. Both new from the 2020 summer collection. I was in a green Lanvin dress. And Miranda had greeted me with a smile. Of all things. Mine was from 2015. But I had bought it myself. From the Closet. From Runaway’s ‘throw away extras’. I had it for less that $300. A steal...in the fashion world.

It was ‘fashionable dated’ Nigel had told me. I didn’t care to agree. I just loved it.

And Miranda seemed to as well. Her eyes had looked me up and down, before her trade mark smirk. A slight nod of the head. She loved it, and smiled. “Acceptable”. She muttered as an afterthought.

Before I accompanied her from the hotel, to here.

I had thought of leaving Runway for weeks. And then she said, she just had to. “Everyone wants to be us.” Did I? Did I really? I acted like I did. Lost a boyfriend for the job. My friends. My father didn’t ring as often. Texting was a better way to catch me.

I barely ate, and was a size 4...I wanted to be insulted. My face had fallen. Before I saw Miranda’s face. She was smiling. It was real. And about me.

Something in me melted. Was that really so bad. To be her? Or like her?

My stomach felt like a jar of fireflies when she grinned like that. And I suppose I was, in a way.

“No, everyone wants to be you Miranda. I’m just, a good assistant.”

Miranda looked like she almost wanted to disagree, before we rolled up to the entrance, press and gossip columns swooping in. Paparazzi. Everyone even fashion adjacent was there to take Miranda’s photo. And I was by her side.

We were to attend the final runway walk. But what surprised me the most, was when Miranda had grasped my arm. Almost affectionately, as we walked up the stairs. Linked together.

I stiffened, just a moment. Before following up the stairs. I felt her lips next to my ear.

“They’re taking our photos, because you’re more than just an assistant, because you’re invaluable Andrea. Soak it in. Because we are the best.”

I felt my mouth go dry. Going up those steps was a blur of flashing lights and cameras. A swarm of ill-mannered ‘journalists’ that weren’t allowed in. But I was. With Miranda on my arm.

We went in. And, to be honest. It was like any other day of the last week. Tall, slender models. Wearing gorgeously expensive clothes. Maybe it was the guilt, but every day here, I picked out a few of the free clothe giveaways for Emily. I was going to give them to her when I get back. Maybe that’d make her not hate me. At least, not as much.

That night was meant to be the big ‘party’ where everyone who was anyone was there.

I sat beside Miranda, which is odd. Because I knew I was originally meant to be next to Christian. He was a bastard...but, I still liked him. I had texted him after our fuck and fight moment. He seemed, okay. Maybe it’s because I had a soft-spot for him, he’d saved me my job when he didn’t have to. But I also learned, never tell him a secret. Guy couldn’t keep one to save his life.

No I was right next to Miranda, and Nigel.

He looked, a little pissy, given he’d lost his job, to some weird Game of Thrones shit behind the scenes. Minus the murder. But still showed loyalty to Miranda. Despite it. But, he leaned over. Just so I’d hear.

“We’ve talked, and I’m not happy. But we’ll work it out.”

I turned, only slightly. “I hope it does. You deserve...a lot more.”

“You do too Six.”

Well, shit, if that wasn’t an understatement.

I don’t know, if it was the wine, or just Miranda. But it was just her and I in the car. Nigel was off far to early to be fun. Christian and I had danced a little, before he’d found a blonde girl to fuck. But not before introducing me to some editors. I got three cards. He was a good friend. Just not boyfriend material.

I couldn’t help but think, maybe, just maybe that journalism degree will finally get some use.

When we were alone, Miranda turned to me. “You loyalty wasn’t unnoticed. And it wasn’t something I expected Andrea.”

I bit my lip, turning away from the window. She was looking right at me. “I, enjoy the work. At first, it wasn’t what I expected either. To be honest. But. I like it. Which is a world away from what I thought a year ago.”

Miranda smiled. “Yes, well, you’re full of surprises. I rarely ever am astonished by people, but you always found a new way to. And I enjoyed it, especially recently. Tell me, what inspired it?”

“I just, know how much you love your job.” That was such a lame answer, but I wasn’t going to say, because I saw you cry about your divorce. “And, I wasn’t going to watch that happen to you.”

Miranda looked thoughtful for a moment...which to be fair was most of the time. “You weren’t thinking of what was in it for you?”

I raised an eyebrow. “I thought the whole point of being you assistant is the doors it opened, which it has. Or hopefully will. These parties, rubbing shoulders with the right people. That’s hopefully where this leads to.”

Miranda seemed to turn to the window ever so slightly. “You’re rare. A unicorn. In our world, it’s about being fed to the wolves. Taking advantage. Yet all you’ve done is collect business cards, as if they were baseball cards. And hope for the best. Perhaps we’re not so alike.”

I shrugged. “Is that so bad?”

Miranda glanced my way, a small smile on her lips. “Perhaps not.”

….

I walked into the office the next day, with three very heavy bags. I saw Emily, with a cast on her leg. Early as usual. I dumped them on her desk, before making my way to mine.

“What’s this trash?” She didn’t glance up.

“Clothes from fashion week, don’t you want them?”

Her mouth dropped. “You? But I?...Thank you Andrea.”

It was the genuine smile, with teeth and everything that filled her face. For once she stopped working, and pulled the bags up. Rifling through them. I think she loved them, as that grin didn’t leave for the rest of the day.

Miranda was in, half an hour later. Dropping her coat on Emily’s desk. Before Emily could even get up, I beelined to her desk, and put it away. She glanced at me gratefully. Before sending me an email.

**Thanks Andy. Me and** **Serena** **are going for drinks later. Want to come?**

I’d never been out with them before. But I had invited her to lunch once, before the broken leg incident. And she didn’t seem to hate me, until that happened. I guess all was forgiven.

**Sure.**

It was just an ordinary day, all things considered. I set up appointments. Took calls. Never left the desk.

Miranda had a meeting at 2pm. When she got up, she paused at my desk. “I don’t have all day.”

“What?” I couldn’t help the juvenile response. “I’ve ordered everything, and your lunch should be here by--”

She raised her eyebrow. “I require you for the meeting.”

“But, that’s for editorial, and the Book, and….” Apparently I could sound worse.

She look, exasperated. “Sorry, were you too busy?” Now that was sarcasm. Great.

I stood up. “No, I’m ready now.”

And I followed into the elevator.

“You wanted to rub shoulders Andrea, so why not accompany me? If you had checked your calendar this morning. You’d have seen, you’re to attend these monthly meetings as my assistant. Take notes. I want to see them when this is all over.”

I raised both eyebrows. “Thank you Miranda. I’ll be more diligent next time.”

“See to it that you are.”

Well, wasn’t that fun?


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2:**

The meeting was actually very interesting. Miranda was quiet, for the most part. Everyone spoke in turn, about which articles were best for the next months issue, page layouts, detailing photo-shoots, choose the right photo, which angle, ect.

I couldn’t believe I was sitting there. And writing about which different thing. Each category.

When someone asked Miranda if they could re-do a ‘small’ $20,000 photo-shoot. Miranda turned to me, glancing at my notes briefly.

Before asking. “What do you think Andrea?”

I was a dear in the headlights, and everyone else was too. “I think some of the photos are very good, winter in July is a bit odd though...personally.” Well, that’s what I thought.

“Yes, I don’t know who thought it was a good idea either. I find the theme, off-putting. A redo is necessary.”

And that was that. Afterwards Miranda held out her hand. I stared right at it. “Your notes Andrea.”

Of course. My mind reading abilities were off today. I handed them to her, before once more entering this elevator. A theme of my day.

“Did you enjoy the meeting?”

I glanced at her. And Miranda’s eyes were ever unreadable. “Yes. I really enjoyed it. Thank you.”

“When you bring me the Book tonight, we can discuss what you’ve written.”

“Sure, thanks.” What was going on???

….

I was at my desk, picking up the phone.

Shocked when I heard Nigel’s voice. “You’ve done something.”

“What?” Okay, I’m confused.

“Miranda doesn’t just take assistants to meetings Andrea, she normally only takes ‘special interest’ ever so often. Not just to good employees, but loyal ones.” He sounded both exasperated, and smug, like he knew a secret. “I’m not sure what you’ve gotten yourself into. But Six, this is a good opportunity. Don’t waste it.”

“Nigel, you do realise, a million…”

He cute me off. “This is more important than that. Much more. How do you think she got that list that saved that damned job? I was on it. And next time, if you play your cards right, you might be too.”

Great, I’ll be a pawn in the fashion world, what every girl dreams. “Thanks Nigel. For the heads up. I’ll keep it in mind. I’ve also got work. Also, I won’t waste it.”

“Good.”

He hung up. Great.

What was with everyone and not saying goodbye in fashion? That’s just part of the industry? Anyway, I checked my phone briefly. Nate, the ex-boy, had sent me a call, and a text. I hadn’t thought of him in over a month. I wasn’t about to now. Frankly.

So when it was 6pm, I had the Book, Emily turned to me. “I was thinking of going to this new bar, Hocus Pocus on 5th Avenue.”

You know, despite the crutches, Emily looked great in that red dress. It complimented her hair perfectly.

“Can I meet you there? The Book needs delivering.”

“Yes, I know. And thank you, for the clothes. It really wasn’t your fault I couldn’t go, but I was angry. And jealous. I knew Miranda had picked you over me. A little birdie told me. Though, the car crash was an easy out for you...in many ways.”

I just stared at her. She wasn’t angry, but hardly pleased either.

Shrugging, I murmured. “It’s okay. I just, didn’t want you to be so, pissed. Also, I was going to get you the clothes anyway. It’s the least I could do.”

“Yes, well, I wouldn’t have done the same for you. Which is part of the problem. Serena and I will be waiting. Don’t be too long, or I might be too drunk to remember that I like you now.”

Like huh? That’s new, but nice. Looks like Emily is a little bitchy, no matter how you look at it though. Not that I minded.

….

Roy drove me to the Priestly household. A seven story building, one floor alone was three times the size of my apartment. I pulled out the Book, put Miranda’s never ending dry cleaning away in the closet.

I heard a voice clear, and I looked up. It was Miranda. It a soft and fluffy black robe. Hair wet. I was having vision of tears and a divorce. At that Paris hotel.

But she really was beautiful. Forty-Seven. Even without make-up, she took your breath away.

“You may come up.”

Was that an...invitation? First Emily and now Miranda. Had everyone gone mad?

I made my way up, to what looked like a living room, on the second floor? You really had to work it to get comfortable in this house. No elevator. No wonder Miranda never gained a single pound.

She was seated on a blue leather coach, by a fireplace that roared to life. Legs crossed. Eyes glancing up at me, as she vaguely waved at the other end of the coach. So sit it is.

“I read them. They were adequate. But next time, write their names down, who is the head of what department. What do they mention they like? Talk after the meeting. Invite someone to lunch, show them your writing. Networking in an art Andrea, don’t just sit there writing about page layouts, it’s not about learning their jobs, but how you can offer them one.”

Well. That made a lot of sense. And I didn’t see that coming at all. “Yes Miranda. I’ll be sure to.”

I got up. Handed her the Book, she traded me my notes.

“Also, Andrea.”

I turned, looking her on that coach. It wasn’t fair, that she could just glance over her glasses that way.

“You look lovely, are you going out tonight?”

It was Monday, but I wasn’t going to get drunk. Or I’d be wreaked for two days. I didn’t have Emily’s iron stomach.

“Yes.” It was the truth.

Her look told me she disapproved. But she looked back down to her Book. “Have fun.”

“Thanks.” I wasn’t expecting that to be honest. I probably shouldn’t expect anything. I was wrong a lot nowadays.

….

What Emily hadn’t told me was that she’d taken me to a gay bar, and that her and Serena were dating.

“Wasn’t it obvious?” Serena quipped, onto her second shot that I’d seen. “I work in photography department. Photo editor. Only reason I hang out with hot stuff is for her body.”

Emily rolled her eyes. “That’s enough. And that’s your last drink.”

“Okay babe,” Serena sighed. Kissing her right on the lips.

My mouth was agape. Yet I didn’t mind. I was Bi. But had never dated a girl. Nate was my boyfriend from high school. Cliche, but true.

So when this older woman, with platinum blonde hair, and killer heels approached me. I took her hand and we danced. A lot.

….

I was fumbling for my keys when she kissed me against the door. Arms around my neck. She really went for it. We were both buzzed.

We almost fell back when the door flew open. I chucked the keys on the coach. And she went to the bed, on the other side of the room. I know, I lived in a studio.

I closed the door with my foot, before ripping off my shirt. When I was in arms reach, we pounced on the bed. Kissing hard.

I felt a hand unbutton my pants, and I moved to hike up her dress.

We finger fucked for about an hour. I know I’d have a few hickeys tomorrow. It was sloppy, and I enjoyed it.

But, it was also, a kind of revenge. Fuck you Nate.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3:**

I woke up. Alarm blaring like a foghorn at 6am. I had to leave in an hour, and my pants from last night were down to my knees. So were my underwear.

I turned to find myself alone in bed. In my shame.

My brain felt fried. Short-circuited.

And my hand blindly reached for the clock, before pulling the power out from the back. Quiet. At last.

I got up. Stumbling into the shower. It was cold. Great. I’d have to call my landlord. Again.

When I stopped out, it was like stepping into warm air. And I was shivering. Grabbing my towel, I stepped into the apartment. The only other room I had was my bathroom/laundry. Oh, and a ‘sun room’. It was big enough to dry my clothes, and a few pot plants. Maybe two meters big?

Getting my clothes quickly from the line, I put them on. A few ‘off-label’, mixed with one or two ‘on-label’. I actually looked good. I couldn’t believe it, that’s the best part of working at Runway, you learn how to actually dress. I was in a red dress, a nice black belt and after quickly drying my hair, it would be down for today.

When I got on the train, I did up my make up. It took twenty minutes of the trip.

I looked down. Black heels. Straps neatly done. Good.

I was at my desk. Emily was there smirking. I saw her message.

**E: Was she a good lay?**

**A: Yes and no. I liked it, but she was too rough. I’m...sore.**

I hear a chuckle, before looking up.

Emily was looking right at me. “Was she really? How long did you go for?”

“Long enough.” I could feel my face heat up.

But Emily wasn’t done. “You’ve got a...hickey. Right here.” Emily was pointing to her neck.

I rifled through my bag, pulling out a compact. Looking down, she was right. It wasn’t...the most obvious. But it wasn’t unnoticeable either. I shrugged. It didn’t really matter anyway. I was working, not at high school.

When Miranda walked through, throwing her bag and coat. I went and put them away, before walking over to her office.

“Mr. Randell from Vogue’s been asking for you. Stating it was an emergency with the Manhattan Charity Event. That Margret Boushall stepped down from presenting. Sergio Rossi apparently wasn’t her ‘favourite dead designer’...that was her reason. They’re asking if you’d consider it?”

Miranda glanced up, bored. “I may.”

“I’ve sent the email to you directly, detailing the particulars.”

I was about to leave, before Miranda, “Hmm’ed”.

Pausing at the doorway, I turned.

Miranda glanced me up and down, before. “That is all.” I could just tell, from where her eyes lingered, she saw the hickey. Oh well.

Emily looked over to me. “Did you want to go out again? Serena and I were going to the new exhibit this weekend. It’s on French photography of the twentieth century. A bit…outside of my regular preference. But it inspires her. Did you want to come Andy? Maybe you’ll find someone a bit more...gentle. The arty type tends to be.”

I felt like chucking something over to her, but just shrugged. “Sure. We can go. Is it the one that opens at the International Center of Photography Museum?”

“Yes.” Emily looked surprised. “Were you planning on going?”

“No, but I was thinking about maybe going. You helped to make up my mind.” It was true. Lily would’ve wanted to go. And we used to go to every photography thing together, for her ‘inspiration’. Ha, happy to take the thousand dollar purse, but lose my friendship. Easy.

Emily must have heard the bitterness. “I can avoid the fuck jokes, if it makes you happy. It’s just. I’d never leave my girlfriend for anything. But I miss the chase, I like to live vicariously through my friends.”

“That wasn’t the issue. I’m just a sour-puss. Skipped breakfast. Serena is lovely. It’s fine, you’ll have to tell me how you two met.” I surprised myself by actually meaning that too.

“I’ll be sure to.” Was what Emily replied with.

….

I had the Book in toe. Heavy in my hand like normal. The coat was placed in the closet. Again.

It was then, I saw Miranda sitting on the stairs, looking right at me. The time was 8pm. I’d had to wait hours for the thing this time. She was in a black skirt and a leopard shirt that dipped just a little down. I tried not to ogle, but her breasts were lovely.

“Do you know who Sergio Rossi was? In my twenties, the first designer shoes I’d ever bought were by him. I was always...a fan.”

I didn’t know what to say. So I put the Book down. She wasn’t done.

“I like to think that, we’re remembered, but this charity event. A page at the back of The New York Times, and a few people like me. That’s all there is.”

I just walked closer, the staircase bars, framing Miranda’s face. I felt nervous. “I can find some more information on him, if you want. For the event.”

Miranda snorted. “Yes, that’ll fix it.”

I couldn’t help a small smile. “I can also give you the Book. Or, reply back, saying you’ll do the speech.”

“I’d like you to attend.” Miranda paused. “I think it’d be good for you. To celebrate. And watch.”

I leaned on the railing. “Of course. Is there anything else you needed?”

“No...yes. I expect the notes for the event before tomorrow evening.”

I didn’t normally see her on the stairs. Or see at all, to be honest. But her kids weren’t around. It made we wonder. It was oddly quiet. But, it also wasn’t any of my business.

“I’ll be sure to Miranda. No issue at all.”

Miranda looked right at me. Lips pursed. “I’ll never get used to Stephen leaving with the girls. They’ve gone to London for a few months. To meet their grandparents. And I’m worrying about Sergio Rossi.”

It was then I noticed the tears. I swallowed thick. Before pulling out a handkerchief. Passing it over, through the bars. Before she took it, she squeezed my hand. And then blew her nose.

I smiled. “I can stay. If you want. For a little while. We can talk about the event, if you’d like.”

“I’d enjoy that.” Is all I got back.

“And Miranda. You’re not Sergio Rossi.”

She didn’t reply to that at all. Instead asking me more about the function. But that’s okay. I was going over everything I was going to tell her tomorrow anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> Please comment!!!!!!


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